


And Your Whole Life's Wasted

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-26
Updated: 2005-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: He didn't want the tears to come but they did anyway, and he turned away because she had never seen him like this and he didn't want her to.





	And Your Whole Life's Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**And Your Whole Life’s Wasted**

**by:** lordess renegade 

**Character(s):** CJ, Toby  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Toby  
**Category(s):** Song Fic/Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Aaron Sorkin rocks my socks.  Smile belongs to the guys from Remy Zero.  
**Summary:** He didn’t want the tears to come but they did anyway, and he turned away because she had never seen him like this and he didn’t want her to.  
**Author's Note:** _Golden Hum_ series, story 8.

_You always said one day_  
You always said soon I’ll do it  
You always said now but you waited  
Now you’ve waited too long  
I thought you were right  
Cause I knew I was wrong...

"She said no."

It wasn’t what he had intended to say when he showed up on her doorstep, and he knew that it wasn’t what she had expected to hear either, but it didn’t seem to be entirely the wrong thing to say at least, because she held the door open for him and reached out a hand to steady him as he swayed unsteadily stepping into her apartment.

"I know she did," she replied, and he didn’t ask who told her, because it didn’t really matter.  "I’m sorry."  The words sounded lame, even to him, but he knew she meant them, so he didn’t make any of the smartass comments that were beginning to pile up in his mind.  Instead he turned to face her, and had to put a hand out to steady himself on the table beside him.  Of all the nights in the world, this was not the one for him to be stumbling into her apartment in a drunken stupor, but when they left work that night and left behind the wrong man in that office, still not knowing the fate of a young girl who had become a child and a sister to them all over these years, it had been too much for him, and he had found himself once again on a familiar stool in a familiar bar drinking a familiar drink and realizing that his life had become utterly unfamiliar to him.

So here he was, because she was the only constant he had left.

"Do you think I’m sad?" he asked, and felt mildly pleased that he didn’t slur the words at all.

"Of course," she answered, and he realized that he hadn’t been clear.  "Who wouldn’t be sad?  I mean, everything’s falling apart around us.  I think it’s only natural that you’d be—"

"No," he cut her off, and he made his way to the sofa before clarifying.  "I mean, do you think _I’m_ sad?  You know, as a person.  Do you think I’m a sad person?"

"Who said—" she stopped and interrupted herself.  "Never mind.  I know who said it."  Her frown deepened, and he noticed lines in her face that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago, a few days ago.  It hurt him to see the toll that all this was taking on her, and he wished for the briefest of seconds that he could go back and change it all, just to spare her the pain of it.  But it wasn’t his mess to fix, and that was what killed him the most...that everything was falling to pieces and he was standing by, powerless to stop it.

"No," she finally answered, sinking onto the couch beside him with a weariness he didn’t recognize, and he had to think back to remember what she was replying to.  "I saw your face when you told us about the babies, Toby.  I’ve seen you on election nights, and after big successful speeches, and when the Yankees win the Series.  No sad person could have that much joy in him.  You’re not sad, Tobus, and anyone who says you are—" she broke off and paused, and when her next words came they were so quiet he could barely hear them.  "She doesn’t know you."

"I think," he began, trying to think through the combined haze of scotch and recent events, "I think it may have been a waste."

"The house?" she asked sympathetically, and he wondered how she could possibly be so understanding about the whole thing.  He couldn’t imagine himself being so supportive had this all played out on the opposite side, but then, that was what made her who she was, and him who he was, and them who they were together.

"Not just the house," he replied, and at this point he was just thinking aloud, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind.  "The whole thing.  Her.  The..." he shook his head and started again.  "I devoted the last handful of years of my life to getting her back, and now..." he swallowed, noticing a sudden lump in his throat that he hadn’t expected.  "She said no, CJ.  And she’s never going to change her mind."  He didn’t want the tears to come but they did anyway, and he turned away because she had never seen him like this and he didn’t want her to.

He felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, and she rested her head on his back as he leaned forward and cried into his hands, hating himself more with each helpless sob.  "It wasn’t a waste," he heard her say quietly, her words a little muffled against his shirt.  "None of it was a waste, because you have two amazing children who are going to adore you and aren’t going to think that you’re sad, because they’re going to grow up and see you looking at him with all that love that we saw in you when you first told us they were born, and when you got back from visiting them.  They’re going to see that, and they’re going to love you, and that’s going to make it all worth it."  She seemed to realize she was babbling, because she stopped talking then and pulled back, leaving a hand lingering on his shoulder, not quite breaking contact but giving him room to sit up and take a few deep breaths, to try to compose himself.

When he turned to look at her, there were tears slowly trickling down her cheeks, and he reached out to brush them away.  "I appreciate the thought, but really, you don’t have to cry to make me feel better," he tried to joke, and it fell flat, but she gave him a weak smile anyway.

"It must be so hard," she said, and the smile faded a little.  "This should be the best time of your life.  You’re a father.  And here all this craziness is going on around it.  It’s not really fair, is it?"

"Life isn’t," he reminded her, and he felt some of the normalcy seeping back into things as he sat there with her hand still resting on his shoulder and his slowly stroking her cheek. 

"Do you think they’ll find her?" she asked, and even though it didn’t quite follow along with the conversation, it was a natural progression under the circumstances.

"I don’t know," he said, shaking his head and wishing that he had a better answer to give her.  "I just—I don’t know."

She nodded, and suddenly the contact they had wasn’t enough, so he reached out and took her in his arms, running his fingers through her hair and whispering meaningless words that didn’t matter.  When she tilted her head back to touch her lips to his, there was no guilt in it, only comfort, and he met them with an equal need.  It had been too long, too many years, since he had felt her like this, warm and in his arms, and he found that the walls they had constructed between them over the years, walls of restraint and friendship and easy harmless banter, were reduced to rubble by the heat of her hands on his skin.

He reached out for her instinctively as she pulled back, and a spike of fear ran through him that she had changed her mind, that she didn’t want this, but then she took his hand and helped him to his feet, leading the way to the bedroom.  She sprawled on the bed and he stood and watched her for a few moments, not wanting to move and break the spell of the cool moonlight spilling across her flushed cheeks, her eyes that sparkled with a smile that hadn’t quite made it to her mouth yet.  But then she rose to her knees and reached for his hands again, and he was lost to the silk of her skin and the heat of her lips as they pressed against his.

He woke in the morning and watched her sleep in his arms, and in her face was a peace he hadn’t seen there since they had been young together, with the world and their lives ahead of them.  He knew that when she woke, the reality of their lives would press in on her again, and the sweet innocence would once again be stolen from her face, so he let her sleep, and lay his head back down beside hers.

Closing his eyes, he let his exhaustion sweep over him again, and when he slept, it was deep and healing, and his dreams were of her.


End file.
